


And They Have a Mouth on Them

by greyscalemuse



Series: Sherlock Holmes Has Two Soldier Boyfriends [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, And John and James take advantage of it, Dirty Talk, Fingering, If You Guessed Sherlock has a Military Kink, John and James taking good care of Sherlock, Joltolock, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Mention of Fletching, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Some Begging, Some creative uses for a mirror, You're Right, double teaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 03:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6549292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyscalemuse/pseuds/greyscalemuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and James miss Sherlock. So they go the extra mile to get him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And They Have a Mouth on Them

**Author's Note:**

> You guys. I don't even know what to say other than this hasn't been beta'd. This has barely been proofread. Also, no Britpicking either.
> 
> *shoves it into your laps* Just take it.

The moans were garbled and quiet, just barely drowned out by the slapping sound of skin hitting skin and muffled by the James’ fingers in Sherlock’s mouth. Sherlock grasped at James’ strong thighs as his back pressed against the other man’s chest. James pressed his nose just above Sherlock’s ear, breath hot against it as he whispered. “Shh… shh…” he hushed as he pulled his fingers from between Sherlock’s lips. “I got you…” He shot a side glance to John before his eyes trailed downwards.

He shifted Sherlock’s body, holding him up with his arms looped underneath Sherlock’s armpits. Sherlock, in turn, let his head fall back, hitting James’ shoulder. James pressed himself back against the desk and felt Sherlock get pulled from him slightly as John adjusted his grip on Sherlock’s arse. They all watched as Sherlock’s cock bobbed, hard and flushed, with each thrust. He sucked in a choked sob each time John hit that spot inside him.

There was no doubt that Sherlock was feeling sore and well used – the frustrated groan rumbling deep from his chest quieted by James as he pressed his palm to Sherlock’s lips…

John groaned as he blinked awake, a whispered “Shit” as he laughed and pushed himself up with an elbow. His other hand was already down his pants and he closed his eyes as he tried to recall the details of the memory.

He remembered the heat. It was always hot in the daytime. Their bodies always sticky with sweat. But oh, it was so worth it. They had dragged Sherlock into James’ office. There was barely enough room for the three of them, but they had made due. James had taken his turn first while John leaned against the door and watched.

It was beautiful.

John pushed down his pants as he remembered James leaning down and kissing Sherlock, whispering against his lips a search for consent. They always asked. They always checked. And Sherlock always said ‘yes’ with wide, hungry eyes. John hissed through his teeth as he took himself in hand. He searched his memory for the exact words spoken… the exact offer James had made that made Sherlock melt to his body and whisper a _God yes… please._

_I want to bend you over this desk and fuck you so hard everything in that beautiful mind of yours goes quiet. Is that alright by you?_

John remembered how Sherlock looked, pressing his face into his own arm to keep quiet but he was begging, John could hear it in his voice. Short, higher pitched grunts meant he was positively aching to be touched. James had twisted Sherlock’s free arm behind his back. That’s when tears started to stream from his eyes.

When John saw them, he pushed away from the door, walked to the other side of the desk and ran a hand through Sherlock’s hair.

_William. Do you need us to stop?_

_No._

_Are you sure?_

_Yes. Please…_ he had reached out and gripped John’s wrist gasping as he bit back his groans, head dropping forward. _Oh God, please. Don’t stop._

John snapped out of the memory when he heard the door, pulling his hand out from under the covers and sitting up. James raised an eyebrow and he tilted his head, a smirk crossing his lips as he nodded toward the obvious bulge underneath the thin hotel blanket.

“Do I want to know what you were thinking about?” he settled down next to John, looking rather amused.

John sucked in a breath and closed his eyes before he exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself down. “You remember a few days before Sherlock left? When… when we fucked him on your desk?”

James nodded slowly, “When he was so hard he was sobbing? Yes, I remember that…”

“I thought we’d pushed him too far. I almost felt guilty… but… he surprised me.”

“He always does…” James added to lighten the air a little, injecting good humor, “You need help with that?”

John looked down and shook his head as he started to get up. “No… no. I’ll take care of it.” James reached out and grabbed John’s bicep before he pushed him back to settle against the bed again and pressed his lips to the other man’s in a quick kiss.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure,” John moved his head to the side as James began to kiss along his neck. “I miss him, James.”

“He spent the night in bed with us, that’s a step in the right direction…”

It had been a couple days since John spoke to Sherlock about James and he enjoying each other’s bodies without him. He had given his consent, but they hadn’t done anything more. Partly out of respect. Mostly out of want to have their detective back in the middle again. John recalling their time in Afghanistan was yet another reaction to that, that much he was sure of.

“I know, but… God. He’s still so far away. Even sharing a bed with us. It’s scaring me…”

John sucked in a few more breaths, erection going unnoticed as his own concerns were beginning to take shape in words. Sherlock lived inside his head… and going so long without full physical intimacy… well… John was beginning to worry that the disconnect between mind and body was going to start to become permanent… and then Sherlock really would be gone from them.

James pulled away and looked down at John, searching in his eyes, seeing all the worries and thinking and over thinking that boiled beneath the surface.. “John. Sherlock will come back to us in time,” he concluded, soothing the many unsaid concerns that John kept close, “He finally has the landlord in custody. He’s questioning him right now. He’ll get this whole thing solved and then he’ll be ours again.”

“Yeah but… what if it’ll be too late?” John couldn’t help but finally voice the words, hearing himself speak causing his throat to threaten to close, “What if we’ll lose him? I can’t…”

“Hush,” James kissed John and smoothed his hair as he pulled away. “We’re not losing him…”

John sat quietly, shifting a bit in place before he got up, settling on a shower to help rid him of the side effects of his erotic dream inspired by past events. As he swung his feet over the side of the bed, he paused in thought and shot a look over his shoulder at James.

“I think I have an idea… do you still have your fatigues?”

James raised an eyebrow and nodded slowly, “I believe they’re in that storage unit Mycroft offered to us… why?”

“I think we’re going to have to track them down…” John trailed as he stood up and headed to the bathroom, “I know how we’re going to get Sherlock back.”

 

* * *

 

Sherlock shrugged out of his coat the second the hotel door clicked shut. His thoughts whirred and rumbled within his mind, threatening to deafen him with their noise. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm them before they threatened to start pounding violently in his head. With a smooth pivot on his toes, he turned away from the door as he unlooped his scarf from his neck.

And then everything fell still.

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes raked across the scene before him. John was reclined on the bed, hands folded beneath his head while James sat in the decorative chair reading. They both looked relaxed, normal… except…

Sherlock took a deep inhale of air to try to calm his breathing. He shrugged out of his coat and attempted to hang it, but his hands were already shaking, his eyes losing focus and his heart pounding hard – forcing the blood downwards.

He almost didn’t hear John move, the quiet whisper of him sliding across the bedspread, not until John’s chest was pressed against his back, lips to his ear and words whispered between them.

“Are you okay there… William?”

Sherlock caught the whine in his throat and forced it outward as he cleared his throat, head dropping forward as he felt the coat fall from his grip. John’s usage of his true first name coupled with his current attire brought back two weeks worth of five year old memories – of hot arid desert weather and two handsome soldiers, dragging him off to parts unknown and making him forget absolutely everything he knew for moments at a time.

He felt John’s fingers very gently curl in the hair at the nape of his neck, nails lightly scratching the base of his scalp, coaxing out a quiet gasp that John took as Sherlock’s answer. He could feel John’s lips twitch into a smile against his jaw before he whispered a very familiar question, “Do you like soldiers, William?”

Sherlock’s ‘yes’ expelled as a whimper, shuddering against the vibration of John’s laughter behind him. He felt John’s hands on his arms as he allowed himself to be maneuvered to the bed, sinking to it and lifting his eyes to see James was standing now, looking over them both, a gentle smile softening his features. Sherlock leaned into the touch on his cheek and closed his eyes, humming an affirmative as the usual reminders were whispered in his ear. “If it gets too much… you tell us.”

His heart beat double time when he felt his scarf wrap around his wrists – enough to restrain his hands behind his back but still loose for him to free himself if he really tried. “You tell us what you want, William,” husked a deep voice in his ear as gentle fingers undid each button of his shirt.

“Everything…” Sherlock whispered as he sought out the warmth of the bodies on either side of him. He gasped at the sudden loss when both men pulled away, and he fell to his knees on the floor to follow them. “Wait!” he whimpered, shifting as he tried to seek relief from the tension that was building up in between his legs. He couldn’t struggle to his feet without the use of his arms, so he slid his knees across the thin carpet of the hotel room in desperation.

“That’s not how this is going to work,” John remarked, crouching down so he could look at Sherlock in the eye. The taller man was already panting, squirming in his trousers as he sat back on his heels. John reached out and cupped the bulge straining against Sherlock’s fly, a small smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth when the detective pushed his hips forward to capture the friction John’s palm provided. “You are going to tell us… step by step… what you want… in detail… or this?” John pressed forward lightly, making Sherlock bite back a strangled cry, “Doesn’t get dealt with. Do you understand, William?”

Sherlock nodded, going rigid as James reached down and ran his fingers through his hair. His eyes flicked upwards, tongue tracing along his bottom lip before he swallowed, a million words flooding his head before John whispered in his ear again, “What… do you want?”

And with that, it all came to focus, every last depraved wish waiting to be voice filled his throat so fast he almost choked on them. He sucked in an aching breath, knees spreading further as he shifted again. He lifted his gaze and pushed himself up before nuzzling the fabric that covered James’ erection with the tip of his nose. “I want…” he huffed, mouthing at it, pressing warm, humid breath into it as he spoke. “James… to grab my hair…” He felt James’ fingers tighten, “Harder…” he urged and James’ grip tightened again, “No… harder…” Sherlock pleaded, groaning appreciatively when James dug his fingers deep into the curls and twisted, “Aaah… yes…” Sherlock’s voice rumbled deep, thrumming through his body as it broke free from his lips. “Yes! Just… just like that… while I suck… no…” Sherlock closed his eyes to compose himself, sucking in another breath before he opened them again, looking up, from his knees, at the man… this soldier… towering over him and waiting for instruction. “I want you to fuck my mouth,” Sherlock finally rasped, squirming against the exhilaration that shot through him by voicing his desires. He swallowed thickly as he pushed back his shoulders, finding a thin strand of confidence in the dark look that washed over James’ face at his words. “I want…” he sucked in another breath through his nose, tilting his head further back, relishing in the pull of James’ fist in his hair, “To feel your cock down my throat.”

James tilted his head to the side. If he was surprised by Sherlock’s declarations, he didn’t show it. Instead, he nodded to John, who helped him undo his trousers. Another shot of desire jolted downwards, leaving Sherlock’s extremities numb when James’ cock sprung free. He pressed his lips against the tip, tongue darting out to taste the soft, salty skin before James tugged him back, the grip on his hair giving him very little room to resist.

“Open your mouth.”

Sherlock’s jaw dropped open, his tongue darting across his bottom lip as John guided James’ erection to rest against it. Sherlock relaxed his jaw, John’s other hand steadying it for that first, slow thrust forward before he hand dropped away. Sherlock’s keening cry was garbled, his tongue fluttering against the warm cock filling his mouth before chasing after it as it drew away. Just as the tip bumped his bottom lip, it surged forward again, nearly hitting the back of his throat. He closed his eyes tight, desperate sounds vibrating against James’ bare skin, Sherlock was only vaguely aware of John beside him, until he was whispering in his ear.

“William,” his voice a soft purr that coiled around the base of Sherlock’s spine, tight and relentless, “Will you let me touch you here?” He had popped the closures to Sherlock’s trousers loose, the waist hanging low on his hips, John’s hand slipping down the back. Sherlock’s fingers flexed into fists as the coarse pad of John’s index finger, slick with saliva, ran teasingly along that furled entrance. James released a quiet moan when Sherlock sucked in a breath around him, jutting his hips forward. Sherlock inhaled sharply as his nose hit the curls clustered at the base of James cock, a blissful sound dancing across his tongue as it fluttered within his mouth. His throat relaxed and he forced his eyes open and upwards, drool dripping from the corners of his mouth and down his chin.

It was maddening, the way his body spasmed and quaked, his thighs trembling as he sought out what little friction he could. John’s finger continued to tease, brushing across his hole without ever pressing further while James’ cock filled his mouth and throat with each thrust forward, Sherlock tightening his lips around the head as James pulled back. All the while, Sherlock’s hips moved on their own accord, trying to seek out any kind of relief for the throbbing between his legs. As his thighs spread, he sunk downwards, and for seconds at a time, his loose trousers would tighten up just enough to make his nerves sing.

And then all too soon, with a jerk and a choked cry, swallowing James whole, with John’s hand down the back of his trousers, Sherlock’s eyes threatened to roll backwards, his eyes fluttered closed and behind the backs of his eyelids, an exploding white light burst, burning through him and making his body go temporarily limp. He felt James release his hair, his cock slipping from his mouth with an obscene slurp as he slumped back against John’s chest. Sherlock turned his face towards John’s neck, the inside of his pants wet and sticky and unnaturally warm. He felt lips against his temple and he opened his eyes, sluggish and sated, smiling as James swiped his thumb across Sherlock’s mouth,.

“My vulgar darling,” James whispered, “Did you come in your pants from just getting your mouth fucked?”

Sherlock caught James’ thumb between his teeth and he lightly bit down before he tongue darted out and pressed against the pad. He was panting, eyes wild and bright before he nodded, bright pink blooming high on his cheeks . He felt John push his hair to the side to kiss right where ear met jaw and he sighed in content before he released James’ thumb and leaned back into strong arms. His eyes fell closed and he whimpered again when he felt John’s hands pull at the damp front of his pants, a gentle hand wiping at his spent penis. When he opened his eyes, James’ face was in line with his own as the Major knelt down, tracing along Sherlock’s burning cheeks with his thumbs. “You beautiful man, you’ve been up here too long,” He tapped his index fingers lightly against Sherlock’s temples before he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the detective’s forehead. “Tell me what’s next.”

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the feel of John’s body behind him and James’ hands on him. He inhaled their scents, his mind bringing forth the smell of sand and hot wind and with it… the faint scent of soot and gunpowder. When he opened his eyes he struggled a little against the restriction of the scarf around his wrists, John releasing them from their hold so Sherlock could bring his arms around James in an embrace. He closed his eyes and buried his nose in the shoulder, drowning out the memories with sweat and the spicy smell of James’ soap. “I want you to fuck me,” Sherlock pleaded before he lifted his eyes to the long dresser across from them and the large mirror mounted on the wall behind it. He felt a stirring in his gut before he looked back behind him at John first, “I want you to bend me over that chest of drawers,” he nodded towards it as he caught James’ eyes. “I want you to pull my pants and trousers down and I want you two to take turns fucking me from behind until your come is dripping down my thighs…”

Sherlock elbows hit the top the of the dresser, his shirt pushed up off his back and shoulders and bunched around his forearms. It was the high enough for Sherlock to bend comfortably at the hips and as he lifted his head he saw his own reflection – the way he bit his bottom lip and his eyelids fluttered as he felt both John and James stretch him open slowly. Shifting his gaze upwards, he could see both of them behind him, each with an index finger inside as John kept him spread open with one hand. He choked on air when they withdrew, anticipating that press of the tip, his warm breath fogging up the mirror glass in small bursts, his fingertips digging into the lacquered wood before a tender set of lips pressed against the bared skin of his shoulder once, twice, three times before echoing the sentiment to the other. “Relax,” James whispered and Sherlock could barely nod in reply. He closed his eyes, his head falling back just slightly as another hand brushed his fringe from his face, gently pulling at each curl before resting at the back of his neck.

He opened his eyes halfway just before he head dropped down, forehead pressed against the top of the dresser as James pushed the head of his cock inside him. The groan caught in his throat, palms against the mirror glass and he felt John’s fingers twitch against his neck. Sherlock pushed his hips back, trying to draw in more of James into his body and gasping as he felt John’s breath against his ear.

“Such a needy man,” he whispered, “You always has to have us both. One way or another, don’t you? You need our cocks and our come… filling you up… doesn’t matter how you get it, but it can’t ever just be one, can it?”

Sherlock shook his head, moaning as James gave that first proper thrust, grasping onto Sherlock’s hip with his good hand. He wet his lips, lifting his face to look at himself – flushed and panting with his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. James fucking him from behind, and John beside him, face next to his own, whispering words of debauchery into his ear with a smirk. But Sherlock was not about to let him get the last word.

“It can’t,” he rasped in a voice wrecked by his own desires. He drug his teeth along his lip, worrying it to a swollen red as he begged for James to go harder, fuck him harder, and the satisfied cry when James obliged. He pushed back against the mirror, fingers curling against it, his nerves alight and wanting – his limp cock stirring against its own exhaustion.

John took a step back, a hunger on his face that made Sherlock’s heart leap and his gut twist before he tilted his head and spoke again, each filthy word riding on a deep, lust-soaked baritone riddled with nothing but sex and need and unabashed desire. “I need you against me, in me. I need to swallow you whole and taste you on my tongue and feel you in my throat. I…. Ah!” He hit the wood with the side of his fist, eyes rolling upwards as he tried his best to keep himself focused. “Need… need….you both. You’ve ruined me. And I want it… God, I want it. To be ruined by both of you. Stretched out and consumed and filled to the brim… I want it all…ah… AH!” Sherlock’s hands flew out in front to catch himself, James reaching forward and grasping his hair, pulling his head back and forcing him to crane his neck and curve his back to keep his face from connecting with the mirror or the dresser. James managed to wrap his bad arm around Sherlock’s middle, his body pressed against Sherlock’s back as he mercilessly pounded into the other man’s body.

“Whatever you want,” he breathed into Sherlock’s ear, and in a burst of warmth that filled Sherlock’s body, the youngest man’s legs gave out leaving him to scramble to stay upright as James pulled out slowly. He huffed out another breath, burying his face in his own shirt as he worked it further down his arms and to his wrists. He hissed as he felt an inquisitive finger circle his already sore entrance before he lifted his eyes to see John press his index to his tongue and tilt his head.

Sherlock felt his cheeks burn as he voiced his next desire before he even gave it any thought.

“You should try to get a better taste.”

John paused a moment as he considered those words before he took the challenge with another smirk. With sure hands, he pulled Sherlock’s hips upwards before he bent down and placed his lips against Sherlock’s come dripping hole and sucked.

Sherlock’s eyesight nearly blacked out completely at the first poke of the tip of John’s tongue as he keened another joyous cry. His thighs quivered, his knees folding until the only thing keeping him standing was the firm grip John had on his hips. He whined in protest when he was pulled away from where he barely clung onto the top of the dresser for support, and shuddered as he was lifted up onto it, his legs dangling down and thighs spread. He felt his shirt be jerked loose from his arms, freeing them from the constraints of the fabric. He fell into the kiss as John brought their lips together, faintly registering the salty taste on his tongue before getting lost in the dizzying effects of John’s mouth against his. As it broke, Sherlock’s arms slid downwards, over John’s shoulders, his hands pressing against the other man’s back before he lifted his face to see James. He reached out for the other man and brought him close, pecking his lips, chin, jaw, and wherever else he could reach from over John’s shoulder, fingers carding through soft hair.

A shiver shot up his spine and back down when John nudged his ear and whispered across it, “Steady on your feet now?” and he nodded, a quiet ‘yes’ breathed into John’s skin.

Slowly, Sherlock’s feet were back on solid ground, knees still a little wobbly. He pressed his cheek against the cool wood and closed his eyes as he felt his thundering heart begin to slow back to a reasonable rate. It wouldn’t stay like that for long. His eyes fluttered open when he felt a strong hand at the back of his neck, James’ thumb tracing circles into the soft hair a the base of his neck. He gently pulled Sherlock’s head up before he whispered against his hair. “Hands on the mirror.”

Sherlock obeyed, eyes dancing across his own reflection. His head threatened to drop if it weren’t for James’ fingers moving to his chin just as John made his first thrust. He moaned – a loud, gorgeous sound followed by a pleasant sigh once John was completely sheathed within him. Sherlock’s sweat-slicked palms slid down the mirror glass John set his pace to agonizingly slow. His thoughts broke to a halt, shattering in his head as all he could think about was John’s cock sliding into him. Hence his slight delay when John spoke to him. He heard James chuckle in response.

“John. Look at his face. I think the only thing he can process right now is you fucking him.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Sherlock blinked away his daze, sucking in a few long breaths to gather up some kind of composure before he stuttered out, “Wh… what did you say?”

John leaned down and nudged the back of Sherlock’s shoulder, pressing his lips to his shoulder blade. Sherlock could feel his lips curl into a smile against his skin before he repeated himself.

“I said… I love fucking you like this. Once James has had his way with you. You’re all stretched out and slick… pliant. I can just… take my time… make you writhe… squirm…” Sherlock saw stars pop across his vision when John gave one, swift and hard thrust to punctuate his point, and he ground his hips down, trying hard to tighten up around that thick cock inside him. “Maybe even beg a little,” John added before he started to slide out again.

Sherlock’s body tensed when John slipped out completely, and he gasped at the loss. He heard James click his tongue disapprovingly before he spoke, “Come on John, don’t tease him,” and all he could do was agree.

“Yes… John… don’t tease… tease me…” Sherlock rasped, licking his lips and trying to wet his throat. “Just… just fuck me. John, please…” He sucked in another sharp breath, his eyes beginning to tear as he elaborated in desperate rambling. “I want you to fuck me so hard, John. Please… I want to feel you bruise my hips while you pound into me… God, John. Please. Oh God, please,” His voice cracked and he shuddered when John gripped his hips again.

He expected John to antagonize him a little longer, to draw it out, to see how far he could push him – but to Sherlock’s relief, he didn’t. Soon, he had exactly what he’d been begging for. John’s fingers pressing bruises into his skin as he slammed into him. Obscenities poured from Sherlock’s lips by the dozen, until they all lodged into his throat and all he could manage were choked whimpers. His own reflection blurred around the edges as he pressed his forehead against it, panting so hard saliva dripped from his tongue and down his chin. His nails dug shallow gouges into the dresser’s surface and for one brief moment he thought he could see every known color recognized by humans and even some new ones all at once before it all burned into a bright white that seared across his vision and he realized that he had some managed to come a second time in matter of moments.

Sherlock felt he was floating, even as he slumped against the hard wood surface of the dresser, one of the knobs jutting between his ribs before he was gently extracted from it. His sweat was starting to chill his skin, raising goosebumps across it. His head lolled backwards as he felt the come slipping down to his thighs, making them sticky. Two different pairs of lips pressed against his own as he was gently eased into bed, whispers of his brilliance in different voices against his ear. He sunk into blankets and warmth and the feeling of two freshly bared bodies pressed against him, keeping him grounded and safe.

 

* * *

 

There was sunlight filtering through the curtains when Sherlock jolted awake, his heart racing and his lungs aching for air that he couldn’t seem to breathe in quick enough. “John?” he rasped out when he realized he was in bed alone, causing him to scramble to his feet. He ignored the protests of his sore body before he frantically started to pad in senseless circles around the hotel room. “James? John?”

The bathroom door opened and John emerged, toweling his hair, alarmed to find a panicked brunette barreling into his arms and nearly knocking him off balance. He blinked twice to register what was happening before he pried Sherlock away from him to hold him at arm’s length.

“Sherlock? Sherlock. You’re hyperventilating. You need to take a deep breath for me. Watch me. Ready? In,” As John inhaled, Sherlock mimicked him, breathing in the oxygen his body seemed to feel it was lacking. “Out,” He expelled the breath slowly, his clouded vision already starting to clear. “One more time?” John urged and Sherlock followed his vocal cues obediently before he fell into the shorter man’s arms once more. He clung to his naked back, leeching the body heat John emitted before he took a step back, the wild look in his eyes yet to calm.

“Where’s James?”

“He went down to get breakfas… Sherlock,” John barred Sherlock’s instinctive dash for the door, grabbing his upper arms in a firm grip. “He’s been gone for eight minutes. If he is not back up here in ten, we can go down and find him, okay? But he should be back in a matter of seconds, I promise.”

And as if on cue, James opened the door, only to be knocked back against it when Sherlock clung to him, burying his face into his neck and inhaling. James looked to John, perplexed, before he shifted, passing off the bag of bagels he’d purchased to John so he could free up his good arm to hold Sherlock close.

“Hey…” he soothed before frowning when Sherlock didn’t seem to calm. “Okay…” he reached back and pulled one of Sherlock’s hands loose, guiding Sherlock to the rumpled bed. “Sherlock… you have to talk. You have to catch us up. What is going on?” He took Sherlock’s face in hand, alarmed to see his eyes already red with tears. John hovered behind him, arms crossed and face pinched with immense concern before he sat on the edge of the bed, leaning close to listen.

It took a few more hiccups of air before Sherlock’s voice was steady enough he could speak. “What… what if he’s right? What if I shouldn’t be greedy?”

“Who… the landlord?”

Sherlock’s sudden drop in gaze confirmed their assumption and he continued, voice softer and weaker. “He was trying to kill you.”

“Is that what he told you?”

“Not in so many words, but it was one of his motives. I’d brought home two extra tenants to a flat that was only designed to harbor one… and he and I had already had our grievances with one another… you two… you two were the final straw,” Sherlock swallowed before lifting his eyes. “He knew I’d left. We’d exchanged words before I went to that park… he didn’t know John had followed me. You…” Sherlock looked between them. “What if he’s right? I don’t deserve you.”

“Woah,” John shook his head, switching sides and forcing Sherlock to turn to face him. “Don’t you dare. Sherlock? Listen to me. This,” he gestured to all three of them, “What we have? This isn’t about deserving.”

“But it’s not how this works, is it? People are only supposed to have just one.”

James shook his head and placed his hand on Sherlock’s back, smoothing out soothing circles across his skin. “And some people aren’t even that lucky, but Sherlock… John’s right. This isn’t about who deserves what. This? This is about choice. We chose you. Do you understand?”

Sherlock’s mouth fell into a contemplative frown as he looked between them. John shifted closer, pressing a hand to Sherlock’s cheek to coax him to look at his face.

“Sherlock. Be honest with me. Did you like what we did last night?” He couldn’t fight the grin when Sherlock’s cheeks turned red, the momentary distance in his eyes meant he’d stored it away in his mind and had accessed it briefly before he nodded, looking rather sheepish. John swooped in and gave Sherlock a quick kiss before he continued, “Then that’s all that matters. So you’re greedy, so what? Honestly? So are we. Because we couldn’t possibly give you up. Not now. Not when we know how it feels to have you.”

James smiled before he leaned in and pressed a light kiss onto Sherlock’s temple, “You said it yourself last night. You need to have us both. Just as we need to have you. We’ve missed you so much, Sherlock. Do you realize that? We missed having you so much we spent the entire day digging out those fatigues.”

Sherlock swallowed and nodded, “You… knew I wouldn’t be able to resist, didn’t you?”

“Oh, we had some strong suspicions,” John supplied, his smirk softening into a genuine smile as Sherlock turned an impossibly brighter shade of red. “Do you know why we had you ask for what you wanted?” He held up his finger to pause Sherlock’s likely smart arse remark. “Because I think sometimes you need reminding that you have that power. We always ask for permission to do to you what we do, but very rarely do you tell us what you need from us. We all have equal footing in this, Sherlock. We love you and we need to know we’re taking good care of you.”

And there it was, a heavy confession thrown out there for Sherlock to process and ponder and think over. There was a still silence that weighted on them all before Sherlock finally asked, in the tiniest voice.

“Is… is that true? You… love me?”

And John didn’t hesitate to confirm it. “Of course we do.”

Sherlock turned to look at James, who smiled bright and pressed another kiss to the astonished man’s lips. “We love you, Sherlock Holmes.”

He felt his chest burn as the flush on his cheeks shot straight down his neck and beyond, a warmth that sunk deeper beyond his skin, into muscle and bone and soul. Sherlock reached out and tried to gather both men in his arms, pressing kisses to both of their lips, each one lingering longer than the last as they all fell back into bed together. And John and James sandwiched Sherlock between them, tangling his limbs with their own, holding him as if to guard him from all who would dare to judge him.

And as they lay there, fully content to spend the rest of the afternoon just listening to their combined breaths and heartbeats and lives twisting together in comfort, Sherlock closed his eyes and no less spoke the words that John and James were waiting for as much as he simply breathed them.

“I love you both… so much.”


End file.
